The Little Match-Seller

By Hans Christian Andersen

It was terribly cold and nearly dark on the last evening of the old year, and the snow was
falling fast. In the cold and the darkness, a poor little girl, with bare head and naked feet,
roamed through the streets. It is true she had on a pair of slippers when she left home, but
they were not of much use. They were very large, so large, indeed, that they had belonged
to her mother, and the poor little creature had lost them in running across the street to
avoid two carriages that were rolling along at a terrible rate. One of the slippers she could
not find, and a boy seized upon the other and ran away with it, saying that he could use it
as a cradle, when he had children of his own. So the little girl went on with her little
naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried a
number of matches, and had a bundle of them in her hands. No one had bought anything
of her the whole day, nor had anyone given her even a penny. Shivering with cold and
hunger, she crept along; poor little child, she looked the picture of misery. The
snowflakes fell on her long, fair hair, which hung in curls on her shoulders, but she
regarded them not.

Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savory smell of roast goose, for
it was New-year's eve—yes, she remembered that. In a corner, between two houses, one
of which projected beyond the other, she sank down and huddled herself together. She
had drawn her little feet under her, but she could not keep off the cold; and she dared not
go home, for she had sold no matches, and could not take home even a penny of money.
Her father would certainly beat her; besides, it was almost as cold at home as here, for
they had only the roof to cover them, through which the wind howled, although the
largest holes had been stopped up with straw and rags. Her little hands were almost
frozen with the cold. Ah! perhaps a burning match might be some good, if she could draw
it from the bundle and strike it against the wall, just to warm her fingers. She drew one
out—“scratch!” how it sputtered as it burnt! It gave a warm, bright light, like a little
candle, as she held her hand over it. It was really a wonderful light. It seemed to the little
girl that she was sitting by a large iron stove, with polished brass feet and a brass
ornament. How the fire burned! and seemed so beautifully warm that the child stretched
out her feet as if to warm them, when, lo! the flame of the match went out, the stove
vanished, and she had only the remains of the half-burnt match in her hand.

She rubbed another match on the wall. It burst into a flame, and where its light fell upon
the wall it became as transparent as a veil, and she could see into the room. The table was
covered with a snowy white table-cloth, on which stood a splendid dinner service, and a
steaming roast goose, stuffed with apples and dried plums. And what was still more
wonderful, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled across the floor, with a
knife and fork in its breast, to the little girl. Then the match went out, and there remained
nothing but the thick, damp, cold wall before her.

She lighted another match, and then she found herself sitting under a beautiful Christmas-
tree. It was larger and more beautifully decorated than the one which she had seen
through the glass door at the rich merchant's. Thousands of tapers were burning upon the
green branches, and colored pictures, like those she had seen in the show-windows,
looked down upon it all. The little one stretched out her hand towards them, and the
 match went out.

The Christmas lights rose higher and higher, till they looked to her like the stars in the
sky. Then she saw a star fall, leaving behind it a bright streak of fire. “Someone is dying,”
thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only one who had ever loved her, and
who was now dead, had told her that when a star falls, a soul was going up to God.

She again rubbed a match on the wall, and the light shone round her; in the brightness
stood her old grandmother, clear and shining, yet mild and loving in her appearance.
“Grandmother,” cried the little one, “O take me with you; I know you will go away when
the match burns out; you will vanish like the warm stove, the roast goose, and the large,
glorious Christmas-tree.” And she made haste to light the whole bundle of matches, for
she wished to keep her grandmother there. And the matches glowed with a light that was
brighter than the noon-day, and her grandmother had never appeared so large or so
beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and they both flew upwards in brightness
and joy far above the earth, where there was neither cold nor hunger nor pain, for they
were with God.

In the dawn of morning there lay the poor little one, with pale cheeks and smiling mouth,
leaning against the wall; she had been frozen to death on the last evening of the year; and
the New-year's sun rose and shone upon a little corpse! The child still sat, in the stiffness
of death, holding the matches in her hand, one bundle of which was burnt. “She tried to
warm herself,” said some. No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, nor into
what glory she had entered with her grandmother, on New-year's day.

Let Me Come In
- Richard Bugg

Two nights before Christmas I sat on my bed,

And more than just sugar plums danced in my head.

Our savings depleted; my job quite unstable;

My wife wanting clothes and a new kitchen table.

The kids were all fighting about who was first

On Santa's long list. My head nearly burst.

"Is Santa a Fake?" the ten-year-old cried.

"Cause I'd hate to think that dear Daddy has lied."

"Of course Santa's real," answered mother with glee.

"When Christmas day comes, just look under the tree."

"Oh, Good!" the kids cried. "'Cause St. Nick at the mall
Said he'd bring not just some of our list -- but all!"
My head started pounding; my temples were throbbing.
Then I heard the faint sound of my three-year-old sobbing.

"Oh, Daddy, oh, Daddy! How will Santa Clause guess

That me and my doll need the same pink silk dress?"

I turned to my wife -- a long pleading look.

She put on their jammies, while I found their book.

I read them a story then tucked them in bed

With posters of Mickey and Simba o'erhead.

While Mama in her nightshirt and I in my skivvies

Collapsed on the bed and turned on the TV.

The news was all bad -- the economy down.

The grimace* on my face now distinctly a frown.

I shut the thing off and turned out the light.

With my wife on the left I rolled to the right.

A grunting of sorts was my tender goodnight.

Then I screwed shut my eyes to chase cares from sight.

Two minutes? Two hours? I couldn't be sure.

When I heard a noise that made my blood stir.

I ran to the window, threw open the drape.

Well, I saw a sight that made my mouth gape.

The moon on the breast of the five-day old slush

Made the yard as appealing as six-day old mush.

When what to my dull aching eyes should appear

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

Yes, Santa was there, but him I expected.

The shock came when all of the rest I detected.

The Cratchits, with Scrooge, and young Tiny Tim.

King Arthur and Merlin, plus Old Madam Mim.

The Whos all from Whoville, the Grinch and ol' Max.
Young Dr. Doolittle there with his Yaks.

The muppets there doing their whole Christmas thing.

While Alvin and Chipmunks started to sing.

And Jack with his beanstalk just starting to grow.

The poor little match girl asleep in the snow.

Frosty was singing and Rudolph was glowing,

The drummer boy drumming. And I had trouble knowing

Just what I should do. If I had a choice

I'd go back to bed. But I heard a voice.

"Let me in," the voice said. What an odd piercing line.

I immediately looked for a wolf and three swine.

Not the voice of a wolf though, I knew from the start.

But a voice that could best be heard in the heart.

"Let me in," came again, and the crowd seemed to hear

And turned to a manger that lay at the rear

Of my untidy lawn. How embarrassed was I

That the sod was unfinished. I started to cry.

But not for the lack of good grass nor from shame,
But because that sweet voice had called me by name.

The Cratchits, Miss Piggy, the whole motley scene

All fell to their knees in a manner serene.

The girl in the snow awoke from her dream

And lit her last match as a lamp for her King.

I ventured to walk down the stairs and go out.

As I walked through the crowd I started to shout

"Oh, help me, please help me. I have bills to pay.

My job is in trouble and I've lost my way."

"We've too many mouths to feed and to dress.

I'm just a failure, a wash-out, I guess."

I said what I felt. I said it out loud.

And I looked for support from the odd-looking crowd.

But their faces were filled with contentment, not thought.

They had not the depth for the comfort I sought.

Nostalgia, some laughs, and some heart-warming plots,

All the magic of childhood -- of this there was lots

In my friends just behind me. But they don't possess

The power of true love; the power to bless.
My friends faded then -- fairy tales all.
But the Lord of All Hosts was still at my call.

I fell to my knees, folded hands at my chin.

I heard the voice say, "Please, let me come in."

I awoke in my bed and turned to my wife.

Her snoring repose took away all my strife.

The day of all days, Christmas Eve came.

We sat round the fire and called them by name,

"On Dasher, On Dancer, On Prancer and Vixen."

We sang Jingle bells. The kids got their licks in.

The Grinch carved his Beast. Tiny Tim God-Blessed all.

Then we looked at the painting I'd hung on the wall.

I opened to Luke. We read of His birth.

We read of His life, and His works here on earth.

We read of our Lord, of our Savior, my friend,

Then prayed to the Father and asked that he send

All the spirit of Christmas; the Spirit of Love;

All the blessings befitting us, down from above.

Christmas day came, and Santa Clause too.

And our own little Whos never cried Boo-hoo.

In fact, though their list had been shortened a tad

They whispered together and then asked me, "Dad,

"Is there someone out there, some girl or some boy,

Whom we could help out with a game or a toy?"

I did lose my job, then along came a better.

And we paid all our bills to the dot and the letter.

Our home now abounds not with money, nor fame,

But with unfettered love for the Holy of Name.

I remember the stress and the fear that has been,

But my soul now rejoices, 'cause I let him in.